Drinking Games
by sylphides
Summary: Short oneshot. After DH, everyone goes back for an 8th year to make up for the missed year. Hermione gets sick and tired of the noise at night, and does something about it.


Disclaimer: Not my creation, that honor belongs to JKR.

Warning: This is pretty much pointless and was inspired by a real-life rant I have.

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"_Bloody hell, keep it down!" _I lost my temper and stormed out of the room I shared with Lavender. I'd really had it. Lavender might be able to sleep through the loud stomps of running feet and pounding on doors down the hallway, but I was tired of getting no sleep for the third week straight.

One would have thought that going back to Hogwarts to finish our interrupted year of schooling would be a joyous occasion for me, one Hermione Granger, lover of all things academic. I was actually quite thrilled to be back at Hogwarts. I had turned down the Head Girl position though. I had had enough of responsibility, and I just wanted to be able to spend time enjoying life.

Funny, I didn't see myself enjoying life at all.

Instead, I found that I had come back to a very liberated Hogwarts.

_Carpe Diem, _they said. Live life as if each day was your last. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, and all that stuff and nonsense. Taking the time to smell the roses was one thing. Taking the time to consume large amounts of smuggled firewhiskey and learning how to successfully hold large drinking parties in the Room of Requirement without alerting any of the professors to the fact was on a whole different level, and quite unacceptable when the drunken revels spilled into my sleeping hours.

Grimly, I made my way down to the source of my sleepless nights. The Slytherins were hosting the parties this week, according to rumor. They always managed to proccur the best quality alcohol, and the most quantity as well. And it being a weekend was no help at all. They'd managed silencing spells and masking spells layered everywhere in the common room of whichever House was holding the party that weekend. They'd managed to convince the Room of Requirement to create direct doorways to the common room of each of the four Houses so they didn't have to risk the trip home stumbling drunk down the hallways of Hogwarts, they only had to sneak there while they were still sober. They'd managed to collect enough money to buy the ingredients and persuade the better Potions students to brew the Hangover potion for mornings so they didn't give away their 'fun nights' to the adults.

They'd done very well, indeed. Almost all the students in all four Houses were going to these damn parties. I'd gone to several. Harry and Ron went frequently. The Muggle-born had quickly taught several drinking games to the Half and Pureblooded, and vice versa. Even music from both Wizarding and Muggle sources were being played and everyone danced to them, regardless of heritage and blood. A wonderful example of our ability to truly unite, right? Of course. Even the Slytherins were mingling and freely mixing with the other Houses. And somehow, after the awful year of uncertainty and death and fear that was still fresh on our minds, this was an outlet. A crazy way of _living, _and _feeling _without experiencing the raw pain the War had gifted us with. When it's dark and the music is loud and the beat is pulsing and your inhibitions are down, you don't have to think about the friends who didn't make it, or the particular blank stare a dead person's eyes give you, or how sticky blood can be, and its curiously metallic smell. You don't have to remember what threstrals look like, and you don't have to think about the sickly green light and that high, unnatural voice speaking words you don't want to hear.

It was why no one, from the firsties who knew about the parties but were barred entry (only fifth years and up were allowed in—the younger ones had their own, nonalcoholic gatherings) to the Ravenclaw Head Girl and Hufflepuff Head Boy—and yours truly, one Hermione Granger—didn't breathe a word to the teachers. It was a sort of release. Even I, through my disapproval of such blatant disregard for rules and flouting of time meant for homework and sleep, understood. I'd even frequented the parties at the beginning. And I still went, now and then, though not often. I preferred the quietness of the library and the stillness of the books. Peaceful.

But enough was enough. They'd managed to do so many things to hide the existence of these weekend binge-fests. What they _hadn't _managed, among all their other accomplishments, was learning how to respect those already asleep when they came back from the Room of Requirement.

I stalked down the stairs to where a group of mixed gender, ranging from two fifth years to the majority of us "eighth years," were drunkenly laughing as one told an incoherent story at the top of his lungs. Another two were noisily clomping up the stairs to the boy's side of the Gryffindor Dormitory, and from the muffled yelling from that side, I figured someone had woken up and was reaming someone out for pounding on his door to be let in.

I quickly cast a nonverbal Muffling Spell around the room, reinforcing the ones already in place in anticipation for anything illicit that might be taking place there. _"Shut the hell up!" _

The boy stopped telling his story, and two of the girls giggled, clearly well on their way to being so inebriated they wouldn't remember anything of tonight.

"Bloody 'ell, 'ermione, y' _swore!" _

Of course. Ron would have to be part of this group, and just as drunk as the rest of the monkeys.

"All of you, you should be ashamed of yourselves! Do any of you have the courtesy to at least try to be quiet when you come in? _Some _of us _do _sleep at normal hours during the weekend. Yes, Ronald, I swore, and I think I'm justified. I've had enough!"

Ignoring the silent yelps of surprise and then the mouthing of dirty words that spilled out of their mouths, I silenced the entire lot. I smiled in satisfaction at their infuriated expressions. They wouldn't be able to get rid of that spell so easily, and certainly not drunk as they were. What was more, I'd layered in a modified and mild Muffling Spell so that even if they pounded on a drum, it'd come out the same volume—a soft tap.

"Insensitive bastards, I've a good mind to tell Headmistress McGonagall what goes on in the Room of Requirement each weekend!" I levitated and floated the boys up the stairs and unceremoniously dumped them at the top. I did the same with the girls, and the stunned look of indignant anger almost made up for the many nights of being woken by the returning partiers. Almost. "Or maybe I should just leave the Silencing Spell in place for the next few days, and let you figure out how to disable it yourself?"

I let them stew on that in the blessed silence as I returned to my room and closed the door. Then giggled as I realized that I'd been stupid too—I hadn't even remembered that if I could cast a Muffling Spell on the common room, surely I could cast one on my room so I wouldn't have to hear the noise.

Oh well. At least I'd managed to tell off the noise-makers. They were still at fault, no matter whether I had a way to block out the noise or not. I drifted off with a very Slytherin smirk on my face at the horrified and affronted looks the rabble had given me…

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A.N.: This was basically my way to rant about certain folk who live on my floor and truly _are _insensitive bastards, coming back completely pissed and pounding on doors, screaming, and talking. At 2 or 3am. I hate my floor. Thus, this is my way to strike back against them, HP-style, since I don't have the luxury of Muffling Spells. Sorry if you felt like you wasted your time.


End file.
